


A Light Spark

by weareunderthesameskies (OliviaNMaestro)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ficlet, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Sweet, Tender - Freeform, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Warden Amell (Dragon Age), flirt, zev has a thing for lightning mages is my headcanon ssssh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaNMaestro/pseuds/weareunderthesameskies
Summary: Adriel is freezing outside on the camp watch as the companions sleep, with one particular Antivan elf on his mind.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai & Warden, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	A Light Spark

**Author's Note:**

> fuck it, lets post some OCs warden fics. first time I've posted about my own Warden, but uhhhhh hope u like!

He could come up with many excuses as to why it would make sense for Adriel to visit his tent. The real question was which one the others would believe. Not that it mattered. They’d probably talk about it anyway. It was a small camp after all.

He could suggest that it was because the cold. After spending most of his life in the Tower, Adriel wasn’t exactly used to the outdoors. Of course he knew a handful of spells to warm himself with, but no one needed to know that.

Maybe that his single tent was getting worn down. Instead of bothering to buy a new one they could just… share? That was a normal thing to do in camps like these, right?

A piece of wood in the fire snapped and crackled and Adriel blinked blearily, realizing he had been staring himself blind in pit. How long had he been sitting like this? He tugged the wolf skin further over his shoulders. There were no clouds this night and the cold was biting. He looked up and saw the stars shining brightly above him.

Handsome. Zevran had called him handsome. His eyes had glistened and his lips curled ever so slightly into a gentle smile. Adriel could feel the tip of his ears warming up, and it was not because of the campfire.

He had had a crush on another man before. In the Circle. When they were apprentices they spent much of their time together, studying, making the best of their time. He was human. And he apparently hadn’t felt the same way about Adriel. Not that it mattered. Even though many mages indulged in short term affairs, it was still a rarity in the Circle. Adriel scoffed to himself. Never did he imagine he’d end up a place with less privacy than the Circle, but, here they were.

Zevran liked him. Probably. Most likely. It was likely, right? He stared after Adriel. Maker, those looks Adrien would catch at the corner of his eye. When they got eye contact like that most of the time Zevran would give a small wink, but keep his eyes locked. But sometimes Zevran would avert his gaze, almost shy-like. Adriel liked those moments the best.

He didn’t mind Zevran staring. He did his fair amount of oogling too. When they were eating together, at the camp; Leliana and Shale chatting, Alistair and Morrigan having a go at each other yet again, Sten sitting in the midst and silently enduring… Zevran might join one of the conversations, merrily eating his stew. 

Adriel had caught himself several times simply staring at Zevran’s lips, transfixed with the way he eats, talks. Alistair asked him a question once, in the middle of his staring, and it took him a good few minutes before Adriel finally understood that Alistair was asking him something about tactics. “Yeah,” answered the mage. He had no clue what Alistair said. He was still thinking about the elf’s lips. What Adriel wouldn’t give to see those lips closer, trace them with his finger, his –

A branch snapped somewhere in the woods behind Adriel and he flinched, knocking over his staff next to him, which loudly fell down on Alistair’s shield next to that. Adriel looked horrified at it, frozen in an awkward crouched position, waiting for the camp to awake and take to arms.

He waited a beat.

No one came out of their tents.

He let out a relieved breath, frost fogging the air in front of him as he exhaled. He technically shouldn’t be as relieved as he was. What if there actually was attack and his companions were all too slow?

He closed his eyes, listening around him. Only the faint rustling of the trees and crackling of the bonfire were present to him. The faint beat of his own heart. Adriel did enjoy nature, however unused he was to it. It may be his elf-blood, but he felt like the nature was calling to him.

“Keeping watch normally means actually watching.”

A warm breath blew across Adriel’s ear and he nearly fell down his log. The closeness of someone’s breath on his skin made all the hair on his neck raise at once and Adriel latched out with his right arm and unleashed a small jolt of lightning. A welp was heard next to him, followed by a breathless laughter.

“Maker’s breath Zevran don’t do that! I could have hurt you!”

Adriel was panting, the random burst of mana momentarily draining him, combined with the shock. His pulse was racing. There may be several reasons for that.

“Ahh, but how could I resist? You were sitting there, all by yourself, eyes closed… Come now Warden, do not tell me you would not have done the same?” The mischief was clear in Zevran’s voice. He was rubbing his arm where the jolt of lightning had hit him. A small black mark on his skin. “So, any darkspawn around that need a good stabbing?”

“Wha- what?” Adriel stuttered, still a bit confused about when Zevran had appeared next to him. He suddenly remembered just how close the elf had been sitting, his breath ghosting across his ear shell like that. Adriel’s ears went red at the tip.

“Oh, you know, with the ruckus and commotion you were causing earlier I could only come to the conclusion that we were being attacked, no? Why else would you wake us from our sweet sleep?” Zevran smiled and edged closer to Adriel on the log. Adriel blushed again, embarrassed.

“There… There are no darkspawn… right now…” he murmured, trying to look at anything, anything but Zevran’s lips. His eyes flicked around like a confused moth in the near vicinity of a light source. He ended up settling his gaze on his own hands, staring intently at them.

“So you woke me from my beauty sleep with only your clumsiness?” Zevran asked, tease apparent in his voice.

“It would appear so,” said Adriel, now creating small extensions of lightning between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh!” he exclaimed, the little bolts cackling. He looked up and found Zevran observing him, his head ever so slightly tilted. “Your arm! I’m so sorry Zev, here let me-“

He moved closer and wrapped his hand around Zevran’s bicep. Zevran didn’t flinch, but Adriel could feel the small tremble. The elf was used to pain, but it will always be hard to hide discomfort, at least initially. Adriel held still.

“Adriel, I am fine, nothing happened-“

“Zev, your skin is burnt here.” He traced it gently with his thumb, the burst of charred skin protruding. Zevran was smooth and warm to the touch.

“I’ve had far, far worse my friend. It’ll leave a neat scar I’m sure,” Zevran said with a flashing smile. Of course he’d be dismissive.

“Great thing about being friends with a healer,” Adriel said, “is that you don’t have to worry about the scars anymore.”

He lifted his left hand over the mark, his right holding Zevran’s arm still. A blue glowing light emerged and danced over the golden skin. The light was faint enough to not be sharp to the eye, but bright so that Zevran’s features were just so illuminated with blue highlights. A short moment passed where the two men stared at each other. Adriel noticed how the bonfire danced in his eyes. 

Adriel removed his hands carefully again, revealing a patch of clear skin.

“Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do for burning you to begin with.”

Zevran chuckled ever so slightly.

“Yes, well, I can’t say it wasn’t hot.”

Adriel’s eyes widened, but then he let out a nervous breath that may have been translated to a faint laughter.

“Aahh aha yes, because I burnt your skin. Hot,” Adriel said lamely. He shifted again and turned away from Zevran, his mind racing and circling.

“No,” said the elf, who persistently moved closer. What was he doing? “I meant it was like… how should I say… enthralling? It certainly got my attention.”

Adriel sat still. He was panicking. His stomach was doing the strangest things and he was worried that the mana drain might’ve something to do with it. Or was it the stew…? Maybe Alistair really shouldn’t have cooked…

“Adriel, are you not freezing out here?” Zevran asked. He was sitting right next to the mage. If he moved his leg they would knock into each other at the knee.

“Why do you say that?” Adriel said, now returning to fumbling with his sleeves, pulling them over his arms, his hands. 

“You are shivering.”

Adriel held his breath in an attempt to sit still. Zevran chuckled again, but quickly spoke as he noticed Adriel did not exhale. 

“Please breathe. I would not want you to pass out here in the cold.” He leaned down past Adriel and picked up the wolf skin again. The mage finally let out a shaky breath and tried to stabilise his racing heart. 

“May I?” Zevran asked, suddenly very gentle, gesturing forward with the blanket. Adriel nodded silently and Zevran draped the fur across the shoulders of the young mage, his hands lingering at the top, fingers lightly brushing the nape of the mage’s neck. Zevran looked as if he was going to add another quip but redecided and leaned away again, placing his hands carefully in his lap. Adriel felt weirdly disappointed. He turned to look at the Antivan again, who met his eyes. The assassin looked staggered, and a shadow passed across his face, his golden eyes darkening.

“Are you alright?” Adriel asked, surprised. 

Zevran opened his mouth and seemed at a loss, but then opted to shake his head, golden hair gently framing his face. “My apologies, I do not mean to bring you discomfort, dear Grey Warden.”

“Discomfort?” the mage asked, still confused about the sudden change and turned towards the other man.

“I, err, cannot help but notice…” the painted elf began. “Do I scare you?” he blurted out, and his warm eyes flickered to Adriel’s. “Because I do not mean to. By any means. Unless you want me to. I know my advances can be very forward, and such is my nature, but if you do no-”

Adriel gently placed his hand on Zevran’s, suddenly calm, and Zevran ceased his rambling. This genuineness from the rogue was something that had peaked out before in their conversations, but this was something else.

“No, no, you don’t. I mean, you do, it’s scary to see how good you are at killing,” Adriel said, and started to gently trace the back of Zevran’s hand with his thumb. “But no, I’m not scared of you.” He wasn’t trembling anymore. The edges of Zevran’s mouth peaked, the gleam returning to his eyes. Sitting so close, Adriel felt the same form of trance wash over him as when he stared into the bright fire. He was getting lost in the Antivan elfs eyes. His gaze shifted slightly to the side, and followed the dark tattoo pattern curving along his face. Zevran noticed the shift.

“Go ahead. Touch me. I won’t break.”

Adriel breathed in lightly and shifted his hand from the back of Zevran’s to trace along the top of his face, dancing along the beautiful pattern. Zevran’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed with content and Adriel thought he had never seen anything as sweet. He started shifting his fingers to lightly trace into the golden hair, back again to the top of the end of the eyebrows, along the cheekbones, marvelling at it all. Zevran finally, softly, raised his own hand to hold Adriel’s in place and turned his face towards Adriel’s palm, catching it by the corner of his lips. His eyes opened yet again, pupils dark, as he smirked against the palm, planting a soft kiss against the soft skin. Adriel couldn’t help himself. He let a small spark dance across his fingertips, just enough that it would tickle against Zevran’s lips. The man gasped with surprise.

“Mischievous, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Sometimes,” Adriel admitted, not even attempting to hide the smile across his own face. A beat passed, as they just looked at each other, not moving, not wishing to break apart, not daring to pursue. Adriel cleared his voice and removed his hand again. Zevran was still smiling as he turned to the fire, picking up a stick nearby to rustle around in it, keeping the warmth alive. “You go ahead and get some sleep dear Warden,” he said. “Maybe I shall join you later if you still cannot manage to stay warm,” he added with a trademark playful wink. 

Adriel blushed lightly again and Zevran chuckled again.

“Aaah, never gets old. But seriously, we will need you tomorrow at your best.”

“Thank you Zevran,” Adriel finally managed and pried himself up from the spot on the tree stump. He shifted the wolf pelt off again and returned the favor of adjusting it around Zevran’s shoulders, remarking how it felt when their fingers brushed as Zevran caught it. 

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night,” Zevran replied. And with that, Adriel managed to drag his numb legs towards his lone tent, spending the remaining of his time awake thinking of how soft Zevran was, and wondering whether he’d ever get to explore what other spots the Antivan assassin liked to be caressed, until he dozed off into a comfortable sleep, a pair of golden eyes and light smile playing on repeat in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! If you have any comments, feel free to leave some, I'd love to hear from u :)


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